


Marriage Counseling with Donna Noble

by Moonlightkitten (orphan_account)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AM I BOVVERED?, Awesome Donna Noble, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, No I'm serious there's a shit ton of crack, oblivious Yaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 15:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18391352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Moonlightkitten
Summary: Not that it wasn’t awkward in here too, but there happened to be a huge army of fish ninjas, led by Tucker Carlson’s mermaid look-alike, waiting to murder them just outside the building. So, priorities.Donna eyed the two of them, annoyed. "Alright, then," she said finally. "If I'm going to counsel you or whatever, might as well do it properly. Tell me about your sex life.”/////In which Yaz and the Doctor, on the run from alien ninja fish, accidentally stumble into the marriage counseling offices of Donna Noble and must pretend to be a couple to avoid detection.





	Marriage Counseling with Donna Noble

“We’re totally going to die, aren’t we?” called Yaz, panting, as the Doctor dragged her through the streets of London. 

 

“No, Yaz, that’s bad-- stay positive! Graham and Ryan’ll sort things out with the ambassador and we’ll be fine! It’s like the song,  _ you gotta keep your head up, ayyy--” _

 

“Doctor, we’re being hunted by evil fish ninja assassins disguised as cable news anchors! I don’t see how we’re going to get out of this!” 

 

With a gasp, the timelady flung them behind a dumpster as lasers eviscerated a nearby lamppost. “Well, what do fish and daleks have in common?” 

 

A large pile of garbage spilled onto the both of them, and Yaz cringed. “Ew, I don’t know, world domination plans?” 

 

“Wrong,” exclaimed the Doctor, taking off at breakneck speed again, albeit this time with quite a lot of dirt (and, strangely, seaweed) caked down her front. “They can’t climb stairs! And they’re bad kissers. Well, nevermind, that’s not important right now. We need to find a staircase that’s well high up.” 

 

Yaz frantically surveyed the area, finally spotting an innocuous-looking brick building with a set of rickety fire escape stairs.  “Like that one?” 

 

“Where?”

 

“The tall building that says Marriage Counseling on the sign.” 

 

“Ooh, brilliant, fifty points to Yaz!” the Doctor cheered, changing course. “We just need to shimmy up there--  _ ahhh, bad fish!--  _ okay, give me a hand here, I think this one’s a piranha…” 

 

**********

 

By all rights, Donna Temple-Noble should have received a promotion by now. After all, she’d been working at SLCC (South London Counseling Clinic) for nine months-- she even groveled and apologized to her boss when he heard her call it Shitty Loser Cunts Complaining. Which was  _ totally  _ fair, for the record.

 

Her job consisted of listening to a bunch of unhappy couples tear each other apart, occasionally interjecting with generic advice from SLCC’s scripts, like  _ communication is the key to a good relationship  _ and  _ breathe in and out slowly  _ and  _ lube is the answer to all your problems  _ (alright, that was her own addition). She’d even gone through the bloody well useless training to become a certified relationship counselor. 

 

But no, none of this mattered, because Neris was a cold-hearted bitch who’d slept with Donna’s boss and then suddenly, miraculously, been hired with no experience for the supervisor position at SLCC. Which was  _ rightfully Donna’s,  _ by the way. Just saying. So was it any wonder that she was a bit pissy this morning? 

 

All this to say that, when a couple of disheveled people stumbled through the door in torn clothing, clinging to each other like their lives were in danger or something, Donna was  _ not  _ excited. Great, another unannounced walk-in visit;  _ just  _ what she wanted right now. Rolling her eyes, she watched as her new clientelle approached the counter.

 

“Welcome to SLCC,” muttered Paul the receptionist in a deliberately monotonous voice, “here to help your sex life or whatever. Unfortunately for you, we don’t provide service to homeless-looking blokes, so I’m going to ask you both to leave.” 

 

The couple turned to each other and began to chat frantically between themselves-- Donna squinted from across the room, trying to make out the blonde one’s face. He was vaguely familiar… but no, then he turned back to the counter and Donna realized that “he” was actually a woman, albeit a very dirty one.

 

“Please,” she implored, attempting to brush mud off her rainbow-striped shirt, “We really need a place to hide right now, there’s an army of mutant--” 

 

“Ahem,” interrupted her (presumably) wife, a younger, dark-skinned girl, “Actually, we’re here for… uh, your marriage counseling services, and we have money, lots of money.  _ Lots.”  _

 

Paul scoffed. “No means no-- that’s a free piece of advice for you, by the way-- and we aren’t taking some street rats who just--”

 

“Yes we are,” Donna called from across the room, and all heads swiveled towards her. For a brief second, she could’ve sworn she saw the blonde lady flinch. (Her eyes were probably blinded from the sheer radiance of a proper shampoo and conditioner job like Donna’s.) “Come into my office, I’m well bored. Probably die back here if I have to read another of Neris’ illiterate emails.” 

 

“Wait,” protested Paul, “if they can’t pay for a shower they clearly can’t pay for our high-end services!” 

 

“But they’re  _ lesbians,”  _ Donna pointed out loudly, raising her eyebrows. “And the last thing I want right now is to deal with some arsehole tosser in fits about the size of his prick. Come on, girls, right down this hallway, to your left… I’m Donna, by the way. Donna Temple-Noble.” 

 

***********************

 

Yaz couldn’t exactly read minds, but she would have given a week’s salary to see her friend’s thoughts as the two of them sank onto the sofa inside of the building. The usually somewhat impassive Doctor seemed fairly shooketh **™** at the sight of their redhead would-be marriage counselor, who had introduced herself as Donna. _Is she a secret fish ninja?_ wondered Yaz. _Well, no, because then the Doc wouldn’t have followed her in here. Still, something’s off about her. I hope Ryan and Graham finish peace accords soon so we can get out of here._

 

As it turned out, Ms. Temple-Noble was quite the gossip. Before Yaz’s ass even hit the seat, she had basically heard about the marriage counselor’s entire life, including an unexplained period of amnesia and a feud of Kardashian proportions with somebody named Neris. 

 

“... and then that bitch stole my toaster too,” prattled Donna angrily as the time travelers got settled on the sofa, “a nice one, so I bet my husband Shaun she couldn’t go five minutes without breaking it, and whaddaya know, the  _ next bloody day _ we get sent the repair bill for… Anyway, don’t matter, I’m on the clock here, better get started. What’re your names, then?” 

 

“Uhhhh,” Yaz began, shooting a cursory glance at her friend. If this lady really was human, there wasn’t any real point in lying, so she said, “I’m Yasmin, and this is the Doc--” 

 

“Jane Smith,” interrupted the timelady quickly. “I’m just an ordinary human who’s not related to aliens in any way whatsoever, and as a matter of fact I don’t even believe in them.” 

 

Donna seemed unimpressed, eyeing the Doctor from head to toe before saying dryly, “Well, that’s well shameful. You don’t believe in science, is it?” 

 

“Hey, ‘course I do!” 

 

“Don’t tell me you’re one of them Mormons.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“You know, those people who live in caves and make their own butter and think  _ the earth is flat.”  _

 

“Actually,” muttered the Doctor, “pretty sure that’s not what Mormons--” 

 

“Oi, Pigpen! You’re here to solve your arguments, not start new ones.” Frowning, Donna settled back in her chair, gaze focused on Yaz this time. “So what’s your problem, anyway? Tired of gettin’ a staph infection every time your wife sticks those filthy fingers up your--” 

 

“Ahem,” Yaz coughed delicately. This situation was getting rather out of hand, and as absurd as this might be some other time, their lives were sort of at stake. First and foremost, they probably needed to focus on not getting kicked out of the counseling office. Not that it wasn’t awkward in here too, but there happened to be a huge army of fish ninjas, led by Tucker Carlson’s mermaid look-alike, waiting to murder them just outside the building. So, priorities. 

 

The Doctor seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because she quickly interjected. “Uh, sorry, this is a right mess, but my… wife and me really, uh, want your help.” 

 

Yaz turned to her friend with what she hoped was a convincing  _ we’re totally married for realsies  _ smile, and Donna, glancing warily between them, finally caved. 

 

“Fine,” she muttered, annoyed. “So tell me about your sex life, then.” 

 

_ Oh, my god.  _

 

It was difficult for Yaz to blush, what with her darker complexion, but she was pretty much 110% sure that she was doing it now. Worse, the Doctor, who had been looking in her direction,  _ totally  _ noticed. Yaz self-consciously adjusted the banana peel in her hair, hoping that it would distract from her rapidly heating cheeks.

 

Unfortunately, the Doctor wasn’t the only one who seemed to have taken note of her adverse reaction. 

 

“Oh, right on, we’re finally getting somewhere,” said Donna, penciling something into her suspiciously pink notebook. “That’s the problem, innit? You don’t like talking about sex.” 

 

“Uhhhh…” 

 

“Communication is key to a healthy relationship,” announced the redhead with precision, as though she had rehearsed for this moment. “I’d know, I was linkin’ up with this guy once and it was rubbish ‘cause he wouldn’t listen to me. ‘Course, then I found out he was married, so I leaked his prick pics and cost ‘im his job. They hired me instead-- temp position, but worth it to see the look on his stupid face.” 

 

The Doctor looked deeply disappointed. 

 

“Anyway,” Donna continued with a dramatic flourish, “Point is, you gotta tell your wife what you want or it’ll all go  _ pear-shaped _ and you’ll end up livin’ single in a tent outside of Tesco’s. In fact, why don’t you practice right now, yeah? Tell your wife what you want next time you’re in bed.” 

 

Yaz let out a small squeak. 

 

“Go on, then, haven’t got all day.” 

 

“Uhm, uh,” began the police officer, reddening furiously, “See, it’s just that I don’t…” 

 

“We’re lookin’ for specifics here,” Donna said. “My job’s well dry, I want details for once. What is it? Fingering? Scissoring? That thing they do in lesbian porn with the nails and--” 

 

“Nah, that isn’t as fun as it looks,” interrupted the Doctor, who seemed somehow totally unfazed by this entire conversation. Yaz squinted at her. “Course, haven’t tried it recently, might be different in this regener-- well, nevermind, the queen didn’t much like it either, although her corset was filled with explosives at the time, might’ve been the reason she was a bit vexed. I doubt PC Khan’d be big on that either.” 

 

_ Oh, god.  _ This whole thing needed to end, like,  _ yesterday,  _ before Yaz accidentally admitted some uncomfortable truths. “Actually,” she began, fidgeting in her seat, “The Doc-- uh,  _ Jane  _ and I don’t have any problems with our…  sex life , so there’s no reason at all for us to, uh, be talking about…  _ it.”  _

 

She had hoped for about one point five seconds that this would shut them both up, but no such luck. In fact, the Doctor looked somewhat let down.

 

“But wait,” she said innocently, green eyes bright, “I was curious. What were you gonna say? About how you want me to touch you?” 

 

Yaz gaped at her. 

 

“‘Cause based on the books you’ve been takin’ from my library,” the Doctor continued, “I thought you might have a praise kink.” 

 

She choked. On thin air. 

 

The Doctor grinned. “Oh, that was spot on, wasn’t it? I have a friend called Sherlock, he’s been helpin’ me analyze human actions, very helpful. Well, except for that one time I accidentally offended the nice man at the shop by asking him how the affair was going. In front of his wife.” 

 

_ “Doctor,”  _ muttered Yaz through her teeth, “maybe we should  _ change the conversation topic.”  _

 

“Oh, don’t worry,” said the timelady nonchalantly, “Donna’s not uncomfortable with us talking in front of her. Right, Donna?” 

 

“Not at all,” responded the redhead gleefully, munching on... wait, where had she gotten that bag of popcorn from? 

 

Either way, that definitely  _ wasn’t  _ what Yaz meant, which she told the others in as many words. Once again, the Doctor seemed confused. 

 

“Well, what’s the problem, then?” 

 

In the name of all things holy, was Yaz  _ really  _ going to have to explain herself? What was she supposed to say, anyway? This was supposed to be a front to buy them time till the boys finished negotiating with mermaid Bill O’Reilly,  _ not  _ a frank confession of feelings! 

 

“Look at her face,” said Donna suddenly, leaning forward. “What’s the matter, love, you bovvered?”

 

Yaz pleaded silently with Allah to strike down the fish ninjas so they could go home. “Uh, no, it’s just that…” 

 

“So you ain’t?” asked the marriage counselor. 

 

“I… what?” 

 

“You ain’t bovvered, then?” 

 

“Uh, I don’t know,” said a thoroughly confused Yaz. 

 

“But how’d you expect me to believe you ain’t bovvered,” snorted Donna, “when you’re clearly well bovvered?” 

 

“Well I guess I’m uncomfort--” 

 

“So you admit you’re bovvered, is it?” 

 

“I don’t…” 

  
“You’re bovvered by Jane, ain’t it? You’re tryi--” 

 

“Look,” interrupted Yaz quickly, “It’s just that she’s gorgeous and smart and kind and amazing and I’ve never felt this way about anyone before but I don’t want to admit it because that would be… oh,  _ shit.” _ Cringing, she clapped a hand over her mouth. 

 

For a few seconds, the silence was overwhelming.  _ Dammit, _ she’d buggered things up this time, hadn’t she? What if the Doctor was weirded out? What if she no longer wanted to travel with Yaz? Worse, what if she got angry and walked right out of this office, only to be eaten by ninja fish? 

 

Then, startlingly, there was laughter. 

 

Well, at least it meant she wasn’t angry, right? Embarrassed, the policewoman peeked between her fingers, to find Donna exchanging amused glances with the timelady, as though they were old friends laughing at an inside joke. Seriously, now? 

 

“Look,” muttered Yaz, reddening, “I know you don’t feel the same, but you don’t have to  _ laugh  _ at me!” 

 

This did abruptly stop the fit of giggles, at least from the Doctor (Donna was still having a field day), but somehow didn’t make Yaz feel much better. 

 

“I’m sorry, Doc-- er, Jane,” she admitted. “I really didn’t mean to tell you that, it just sort of slipped out. It’s not… I won’t… I’m sorry, I didn’t want to... “ 

 

“Oh, Yaz,” said the Doctor, trying very hard to hide a smile, “Sweet girl, you think I didn’t already know?” 

 

“Wait, what?” 

 

The timelady leaned back on the sofa. “Well, you haven’t exactly been subtle about it.” 

 

“I haven’t?” 

 

“Nah, givin’ me heart eyes all the time and tryin’ to hold my hand… as Sherlock says, body language is all the  _ habeas corpus  _ you need! Just kidding, that was me, Sherlock couldn’t make bilingual puns if he tried-- I beat him in Latin trivia, you know. Get it?  _ Body  _ language?” 

 

Now it was Yaz’s turn to be confused. “Uh, so you knew all this time?” 

 

“Sure,” the Doctor said easily. “ _ PC Khan est pulchra sed non aculeata. _ There’s more Latin for you.” 

 

Donna gasped, affronted. “Did you just insult my mother?” 

 

“No, I said that Yaz is beau--” 

 

“Did you just call my mother a lard-arse?” bellowed Donna, rising formidably from her swivel chair. “In my  _ own office? _ I’ll sue the backside offa ya!” 

 

Oh, boy. 

 

“Yasmin, darling,” the Doctor declared loudly, “probably best we leave now, don’t you think?” 

 

“But what about the fish ninjas?” 

 

As if on cue, Donna’s office door burst open and Paul the receptionist entered breathlessly, eyes comically wide. 

 

“Aliens!” he exclaimed. “Donna, they’ve arrested these aliens at the capital! Turns out that all of the American news anchors have been held hostage and replaced by evil mermaids-- that’s why they film from the waist up!” 

 

Yaz shrugged. “Well, looks like the boys succeeded on their own, for once. Shall we?”

 

And, taking the timelady’s hand, she dragged them out of the room and off into the sunset (shut up, not literally- that’d be dangerous), but not until the Doctor shot one last wistful glance at her former best ginger friend.

 

Meanwhile, Donna was  _ not  _ having it. 

 

_ “Again?”  _ she demanded of the poor receptionist. “You’re tellin’ me another alien invasion happened, and I missed it? Why do I always miss  _ everything  _ good?” 

 

******************

**Bonus Epilogue:**

 

“Yes, yes,” said the goateed man archly, “We’re very much in love, all filled with yucky humany emotions, that sort of thing.” 

 

Donna studied her client through the bifocals she had recently purchased to make herself appear smarter. He seemed oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place his face. Frowning, she turned to his wife. “And you? How do you feel about it?” 

 

The woman yawned, cat-like. “Well, honestly, I couldn’t care either way. I’m in it for the sex, of course. The absolutely  _ fabulous  _ lovemaking, isn’t that right?” 

 

“Yes, dear,” replied the man, before turning to Donna with mock seriousness. “Well, but we’ve been running into some problems lately. She’s very suicidal, you see.” 

 

Raising an eyebrow, Donna opened her notebook and jotted down  _ bloody hell  _ in her most professional handwriting. “Ah nam?”

 

The dark-haired woman sniffled dramatically. “Well, it isn’t my fault! He doesn’t have  _ any  _ time for me, he’s always otherwise employed-- masterbating in his room, I’d expect.” 

 

“It’s pronounced mast _ u _ rbating,” muttered Donna with a long-suffering sigh. “Anyway, if all you want is sex, why the bloody hell’d you marry him?” 

 

The man scoffed. “Oh, we’re not married.” 

 

“No, no, I’m just his Mistress.” 

 

Donna squinted closer at the couple. Wait, no. No, it couldn’t be. 

 

“You… you aren’t the bloke who used to be prime minister, innit?” 

 

The man grinned, extending a hand. “Harry Saxon, at your service.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos!
> 
> (^^ I'm Prime Minister Harry Saxon and I approve this message ^^)


End file.
